


Aftermath

by Starofwinter



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: GFY, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6522034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rex doesn't sleep for a week after Umbara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

Rex hasn’t slept for days. Objectively, he knows he should - he needs to recover from the kriffing nightmare that was Umbara, the nights spent marching straight through, the battles; he’s exhausted, but he can’t sleep. He won’t sleep. He’ll lay in his bunk and stare at the ceiling until he can’t fucking stand it, and then he’ll do rounds of the ship until somebody - _Kix_ \- makes him sit still. He needs to check on his men, what few are left. He needs to- he needs to… do something. He can’t keep a thought in his mind for more than a few minutes anymore, but he can’t sleep. He knows the second he does, he’ll be back on that kriffing hellhole of a planet, and he can’t do that yet. He can’t see his men, his brothers, cutting one another down. He can’t do it.

He and Cody have talked about it, a little. They’ve said all the right words. ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ ‘we didn’t know,’ ‘we were following orders,’ they’re all well and good until he’s alone and he remembers the names of every brother that didn’t walk off the killing field. He wishes desperately that he’d been the one to take the shot, not Dogma. He thinks of his brother in the brig, heading back to Kamino to be locked up or executed, and it adds another weight to his shoulders. He knows every one of their brothers share a thought - he deserves a kriffing medal, not binders.

They’re built and bred for killing. It’s what they were bought and paid for to do. This, though, this isn’t right. They were raised to love their brothers, to protect one another. _Fucking Krell_ had turned that on its head, and Rex’s fingers itch for a trigger.   He clenches his fists and breathes through it, slows his racing thoughts until the ache in his chest recedes. 

This won’t be solved tonight, he knows, he won’t stop mourning the men senselessly murdered by the orders of a defective Jedi, but… He closes his eyes and lets the dark tide of mercifully dreamless sleep claim him.

**Author's Note:**

> There will come a day when I don't write Rex suffering, but today is not that day.


End file.
